


Rich Set A Fire

by proofagainsttheirenmity



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: jakes parents laundered money, not really a ship fic but i guess you could get richjake out of it, rich is not drunk, rich sets a fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 00:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12829752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proofagainsttheirenmity/pseuds/proofagainsttheirenmity
Summary: By the end, Rich does indeed set a fire.





	Rich Set A Fire

_ This is so illegal. _

 

Rich swaggered through the mall, brushing past couples and double-child families as if he didn't have $8,000 worth of arcane quantum nanotechnology in his shopping bag. The corners of the lady's shoe box scratched his calf through the plastic. He raised his chin and arched his back.

 

_ If Dad finds out, my ass is so getting beat. _

 

_ “He won’t find out.” _ Sean Connery's voice rang through his head, and the actor's impersonation materialized before him.  _  "I promise you. Jake's parents have a lot more to worry about than a couple thousand dollars. Frankly the less money they're caught with, the better."  _

 

Rich smirked, though it wasn't really funny. He'd only had his squip for a few months, and while the Dillingers might be in deep enough shit not to report a few missing thousand, stealing from money launderers to purchase probably-illegal computerized pills wasn't really the type of "cool" he expected to be. Nonetheless, he got what he wanted. A pair of girls stepped from a fragrance store, with sunglasses atop their blonde and blonder hair and three bags in each of their hands. The squip nodded and winked at them. Rich mimicked his movements.

 

_ "You're tense. Loosen up, don't look so stiff."  _

 

He exhaled, allowing his nerves to roll off his shoulders. The girls, who had dodged his advance, turned off to whisper, likely about him. embarrassment rushed to his face, but he took a breath before the sting could get to him. The squips clattered in their box as he swung his arms.

 

_ "Don't worry, Rich. You'll make your money's worth and more. This will make everything so much easier."  _

 

Rich rounded the corner and exited the mall.

 

\--

 

_ Where the hell'd he get that?  _

 

Michael Mell sat on the bricks outside the school with his huge-ass headphones and a Mountain Dew Red. Every morning he chugged a different drink, and every morning it got more and more obscure. Rich furrowed his brown.

 

_ I thought they stopped making those in the 90s.  _

 

_ "They did,"  _  his squip declared.  _  "Knock it out of his hand."  _

 

_ Alright.  _

 

_ "Now."  _

 

Rich charged the kid without a second thought. Two years ago he was exactly where Michael was: wasting time in the school's front lawn, avoiding the hallways and delaying the inevitable meet-and-greet with those who'd knock him down once he got there. He didn't often think about his total 180 since then, but something about that fresh morning air, infected by the acrid stench of bus exhaust, got him feeling nostalgic. God, it felt good.

 

"What was that for?" Michael yelled as his Red stained the concrete, though by the time he finished he'd regressed to a sigh.

 

"Where'd you get all this weird shit?" Rich pulled him by his backpack, glowering at him with bared teeth.

 

_ "Write 'RIENDS' on his bag."  _

 

_ What the fuck is RIENDS?  _

 

_ "R-I-E-N-D-S, like the second half of boyfriends. It's funny, just wait."  _

 

_ This is going to be funny?  _

 

_ "Just do it!"  _

 

"Hold on." Rich shoved him into the bricks and flipped his bag. Michael scrunched his nose as his aggressor held up a black Sharpie, snatched his pack, and began to scribble. He chucked it back at him. "Wash that, and you're dead."

 

He left the nerd to scrutinize his handiwork, and pushed his way through the main entrance.

 

_ I thought you'd approve of Mountain Dew, considering.  _

 

_ "Activation is all it's needed for. It's useless now."  _  He followed Rich through the hallway.  _  "And Red in particular...you should never need to drink that." _

 

_ Never need to?  _  He spun the dial for his locker.

 

_ "Because it's gross, Rich."  _

 

_ Fair enough.  _

 

His locker was plain - there were scraps and books and paper, but its only decor was a long-forgotten can of Red Bull. Unless, of course, you counted the pink shoe box nestled on top of an untouched stack of books. He reached to hang his backpack on the hook - why they consistently gave the top locker to one of the shortest guys in school he'd never understand - and unzipped the lowest and smallest pocket. He pulled out a ziplock bag, weighed down only by the 8 gray pills piled at the bottom. They clicked against each other as he poured them into their box, now filled nearly to the brim. He'd spent a lot more than $8,000.

 

_ When are we actually doing stuff with this?  _

 

_ "Soon, I promise."   _ he assured. the press for ease of communication wasn't as urgent as it was a year ago, but the press for cash was. With his lisp cleared and the squip as his guide, he didn't need to know everyone's interests to make a connection anymore. But his dad wasn't getting any soberer. Down the hall, Chloe, Brooke, and Jenna blocked Jeremy from his locker. The squip changed his tone.  _  "Very soon. Alright, here's the funny part."  _

 

\--

 

"So, I don't really know. I think it'll be fine?" Jake poked his potatoes with his fork. "But it's just kinda shit right now. Trying to stay optimistic. Might have to move in with Grandma at some point but for now they're letting me have the house to myself."

 

Rich crumpled his napkin and threw it on his tray. "That's awful. When are they leaving?"

 

"Tomorrow night. They keep prepping me on what to say when the police show. I don't know. I don't know if I'm really gonna miss them, and I feel bad about that, but they're kinda dicks, so..."

 

"Yeah, I gotcha there." He let eyes wander around the cafeteria. They eventually settled on Jeremy and Michael, standing there by the doors like a bunch of chumps with their matching backpacks. Michael danced around with his headphones on and a slushy in hand. He never actually ate on school grounds, probably to avoid the nerd hell that was the cafeteria - or so Rich assumed. Jeremy just stood there, holding his tray like an idiot.

 

"But the house is so big. I'm gonna get so damn lonely."

 

Rich turned away from the nerds as he considered his response. Frankly, if he was really that lonely he wouldn't mind living there with him, or at least going over every day. Rich's dad wasn't the kind of guy to notice his absence anyway, and Jake's king-size bed was more than enough room for the both of them -

 

_ "Rich!"  _

 

_ What?  _

 

_ "Look at Jeremy."  _

 

Jeremy and Michael - but mostly Jeremy - stared intensely at Christine as she darted away from the bulletin board. Tall-Ass reverted his attention to the poster. He floated towards it, checking with Michael again and again for support.

 

"So, I'll probably host a Halloween party or something, just to get some people in there," Jake finished. He lifted his chin to Rich's line of sight.

 

"Yeah that sounds awesome man, hey, look!"

 

Jeremy took a breath (pathetic) as he picked up the yarn-chained pen pinned to the cork board. With a load sense of pride, he scribbled his name below the 84-pt. words, "After School Play Sign-Up!" Rich's squip smirked and jerked his head at him. Rich mirrored his expression.

 

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!"

 

Rich cackled, and save Christine and the headphones kid, the rest of the cafeteria followed suit. Jeremy's face reddened. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled away.

 

"Ah man, what a dweeb," Jake laughed as he hit his cup on the table. The water rebounded, splashing the palm he held over the rim. "Ah, shit."

 

"What even is the play? Some Shakespeare shit?"

 

"Probably." Jake wiped his palm on his jeans."

 

_ "You should sign up."  _

 

_ What?  _

 

_ "Come on, help a buddy out. Jake needs all the distractions he can get."  _

 

Rich's obedience was hesitant. He didn't get the demand, but his squip had never failed him before. He wasn't going to stop listening now. "Hey, maybe, uh..." He scoffed at himself. What kind of suggestion was this? He shook his head and smiled. "Yo, weird idea, I know, but maybe...maybe we should sign up."

 

Jake glanced up from his jeans. "What?"

 

"You said you didn't want to stay in the house too much. Signing up for shit would help with that."

 

Jake grinned, though with furrowed brows. "I mean, I guess, but I'm already in a lot of stuff. Plus, I'm pretty sure it's at the same time as archery, and there's only like two names on there..."

 

_ Exactly, this is dumb.  _

 

_ "Trust me, Rich, it'll be great. Push it."  _

 

"We could get more people - get Jenna and Chloe and Brooke and them."

 

"Chloe?"

 

"Well," Rich backtracked. He forgot things were still a little complicated there.

 

_ "Mention Christine. She was in the play last year. She's pretty."  _

 

"Well, you know," Rich leaned over the table and nodded at Christine. "Christine's pretty cute."

 

Jake gazed at her, scrutinizing every feature and racking his mind for what little he knew of her. His smile returned. "Yeah, you're right. Was she in the play last year? She played that dead girl, right?"

 

Rich waited for an answer. His squip shrugged.  _  "Irrelevant."  _

 

"Sure."

 

Jake gave her one last scan. He looked back to his friend, and slammed his fork on the table. "Alright, yeah. Let's do it. It'll be fun."

 

"Awesome!"

 

Rich picked up his tray and tossed the remains of his meal in the nearest trash can. The squip stayed planted, staring down Jeremy with a calibrating eye.

 

_ "Awesome."  _

 

\--

 

_ "Stop dancing."  _

 

The bass dropped. Rich held his mask above his head as he hopped alongside the drunk teenagers. He was by far the most sober one there, but he never let that ruin his fun.

 

_ Why? This is a party, dancing is what you do.  _

 

_ "You've been asking to do this for a year, Rich."  _  The squip loomed through the crowd.  _  "I said we'd start tonight, so we're starting tonight. We need to get to work."  _

 

He bopped anyway, swinging his baguette to the flow of the music.

 

_ "Now!"  _

 

_ Why? We already started with Jeremy and I didn't get any goddamn money from it. And why would I need to link with him? I'm doing fine on my own.  _

 

"You've spent thousands on this, you can't quit now!" 

 

_ It wasn't even mine.   _ Rich caught himself before physically rolling his eyes at what, to anyone else, would be nothing. Not that anyone was paying attention.  _  I know we need the money, but I'm not losing out here.  _

 

A zap shocked his spine.

 

"Ow!"

 

The flapper girl in front of him whipped around at his outburst, ready to apologize for whichever limb she may have hit. Rich raised a palm to assure she was fine. He rubbed his neck.

 

_ Alright, I'll do it in a bit, just wait 'till this song's over.  _

 

Arms crossed, the squip waited against a wall. The song never technically ended, as whatever jackass claiming the role of DJ decided the current song wasn't worth his time, but it was replaced by late 2000s Lady Gaga. Rich didn't mind. "Shit, this is my jam!"

 

_ "Rich!"  _  His entire spine jolted. This zap was weaker, but the strength was meaningless compared to the time. It just kept buzzing and buzzing and buzzing and buzzing - it wouldn't stop. His dance devolved with the pain. He could puke.

 

Partygoers didn't need to be told to clear his path. He stumbled into the kitchen and collapsed onto the island. A couple ceased their kissing as his palms slammed the counter, but they didn't leave.

 

_ What the hell was that?  _

 

_ "I'm sorry, Rich."  _  He materialized beside him.  _  "This place is drenched with alcohol, the stench must have caused a minor malfunction in my shocking system. I have identified and solved the issue. Now we can get to work."  _

 

The excuse didn't make total sense - you can't hotbox with alcohol, and the smell shouldn't make a difference - but what did he know? He wasn't the one with the internet ingrained in him. Directly, anyway. He straightened his spine, and looked out for their first sales target. The couple - now returned to their makeout - were the kitchen's only occupants. He took off his mask and set it with his bread on the counter.

 

_ "Not them. Let's start easy. Jenna Rolan is in the dining room. Head there."  _

 

\--

 

"So, I don't know. I might be wrong, but you deserve better."

 

Rich gave a sly glance to the ceiling as he took a swig of tap water, the sole non-alcoholic option Jake had featured for the night.

 

Jenna sighed. "I've thought about that. But no, people still care about me. Right?"

 

"They should. But I don't know if they do. The only times your name comes up is when it's followed by the words, 'says whoever did what.'"

 

Jenna raised her chin, though her eyes were glued to the hardwood. The squip nodded.

 

_ "Alright, go ahead and offer."  _

 

Rich matched her sigh. "Okay, but look. They can care about you. You just need help making them. Now this is gonna sound weird, but I've got -"

 

"Jenna!"

 

Brooke rushed them, her dog ears bouncing with every step. Jenna lit up.

 

"Jenna! Have you seen Jeremy?"

 

Her face dropped. The harsh, bloody smile of Jenna's clown mask and the exaggerated design of her suit was actually terrifying. It was impressive. But with the mask in the other room and only her look of total and utter heartbreak to replace it, it was pathetic. She was a literal sad clown. A twang of guilt struck him, but she quickly swerved her persona. With one breath - granted, the kind one would take if their lung momentarily collapsed - she perked up, and issued the info she'd been waiting to give for the last three minutes. "I saw him go upstairs a while ago. With Chloe."

 

Brooke, frantic, took off towards the stairs without to much as a "goodbye" or a "thank you" or a "wow I really like your costume, how have you been, Jenna?" The squip gestured back at her.

 

_ "Oh, sweet Brooke just proved your point!"  _  The squip scrutinized Jenna's face - her poor, pitiful face - and offered the most condescending frown Sean Connery could muster. Which, no surprise, was pretty damn condescending.  _  "You should probably point that out to her."  _

 

_ I think she's got it.  _

 

_ "Trust me Rich, noting this will really drive home your point, so she knows it's more than all in her -"  _

 

_ What's Jeremy doing?  _

 

_ "Excuse me?"  _

 

"Anyway, Rich, what were you saying?" Jenna asked. "What's gonna sound weird?"

 

Rich refocused. "Uh, nevermind. You know, you're fine. I'm sure there's plenty of people who care about you."

 

He stepped away from the conversation, despite the knowledge that one half-assed sentence couldn't make up for three straight minutes of insults. He strode back into the living room.

 

_ "Rich, what are you doing?"  _

 

_ She doesn't need a squip.  _

 

_ "Of course she does! Look how sad she was!"  _

 

_ And whose fault was that? What is Jeremy doing? Why is he with Chloe?  _

 

Brooke scampered down the stairs and over to Jake. She gushed some kind of frantic message. Jake's face contorted to a glower. He charged upstairs.

 

_ What the hell is happening with Jeremy?  _

 

_ "He's becoming popular!"  _

 

_ By what? Cheating on his girlfriend? That's not Jeremy!  _

 

_ "You know more than anyone that popularity is a game of survival of the fittest. His squip -"  _

 

_ His fucking squip.  _

 

Rich stormed back to the kitchen. Jake darted past, and he ducked out the doorway to watch him. Jake sprinted out the front door. What the hell?

 

_ "I know what you're thinking, but that is not his squip's fault. Jeremy was drinking, his squip is off! It'll fix this when it turns back on!"  _

 

He pushed himself off the doorframe and snatched his mask from the counter. The couple was gone, thank god, granting him the entire kitchen to dig around in peace.

 

_ "You don't need your baguette. It's stale anyway."  _  Rich ignored him.  _  "Don't think like I don't know what you're doing. We're not leaving, Rich. We're not done here!"  _

 

"Yo, Rich, you looking for something?" Dustin Kropp stumbled into the room, attempting and failing to pretend like he didn't need the door frame for support. He was about at his limit. Jeremy shoved past him, and he latched tighter to the mahogany. Jake's screams faded behind the music.

 

"I think someone stole my bread."

 

_ "Rich,"  _  his squip said,  _  "you can talk to Dustin. He's failing half his classes. He could use -"  _

 

_ Shut up.  _

 

"Ah, yeah, your 'machete?'" Dustin giggled. He tried to add air quotes to his speech, but lost his balance when he did. "Yeah, I think Troy ate it. You know how he gets."

 

_ "Rich, you need to listen to me. Everything you are is because of me. You're nothing without me!"  _

 

_ Shut up!  _

 

"Dude, you okay?" Dustin hunched forward to squint at him.

 

_ "You can't even talk without -"  _

 

"THUT UP!!!"

 

Rich slapped his palms against his mouth. Which, of course, only made it worse. Dustin snickered.

 

_ "Way to think out loud."  _

 

_ " Thut  _  up?" He broke into a cackle. "I'm sorry bro, you've had way too much."

 

"I haven't had anything," he squeaked. He kept his lips close and his volume low, striving so hard for control.

 

Dustin laughed and laughed, despite being drunk enough himself to slur every third word. "Oh, well there's your problem! Here, you need something? There's UV Blue over there, drink that straight like it's nothing."

 

_ Why did you make me do that?  _

 

_ "I didn't make you say anything."  _

 

_ It's not what I said, it's how.  _

 

_ "You're thinking about getting rid of me. I showed you what it's like."  _

 

"You know what, I'll take - " His lips went numb. They contracted to shapes he did not request, and his tongue pushed out words he did not mean. "No, I really shouldn't be drinking tonight."

 

_ "Now I'm making you say things."  _

 

Dustin said something, but Rich lost all care for him. He needed this squip out of him. He worked backwards - Mountain Dew switched him on, so what's the opposite of that? In the hall, Jeremy sauntered from the bathroom to the living room. Wait, Jeremy...Michael! What was his squip complaining about the other day? Mountain Dew Code REd? No, that regular old discontinued Red.

 

"Wait, Dustin!" His drunken classmate had begun staggering away, but swung around with assistance from the door. He offered his widest-eyed expression and highest raised eyebrows to make sure Rich knew he had his attention. "You got any Mountain Dew Red?"

 

_ "Just you try."  _

 

Dustin replied with a hazy, "No," but before he could ask why, Rich rushed out of the room to ask anyone in his path. The party was winding down - many were leaving. He caught Brooke before she stopped out. Teary-eyed and pink, she didn't have any. He maintained as much chill as he could, but the more no's he received, the more anxious he became. His squip taunted him all the while, screaming insults and insisting his inevitable failure. Minutes went by, then another two, then ten - no one had any. His squip laughed.

 

_ "You're wasting your time."  _

 

"SERIOUSLY, WHERE THE FUCK CAN I GET SOME MOUNTAIN DEW RED?!" The remaining guests all stared at him. Save the music still blasting in the background, the response was silence. Jeremy and Christine watched him from the couch - Christ, even the losers thought he was crazy. Rich melted. He let out a noise that was part groan and part a plea to God. He barreled to the hallway and pushed past the ever growing bathroom line. Where was Michael when you needed him?

 

With only a millisecond thought, he snatched a quarter full bottle of vodka from the empty kitchen and chugged it.

 

_ "No!"  _

 

All of it. It was his first taste of alcohol in a while. It tasted like piss and it burned to down, but he drank it all anyway. Within a minute he started to feel buzzed. Not that much, just his toes felt odd, but what hit him hit his squip faster.

 

_ "You can't get rid of -"  _  His speech stuttered Japanese.  _  "- stay drunk forever, I'm not leaving -"  _

 

Back in the living room, Jeremy was still with Christine. It didn't look to be going well. She stood and walked away, and Jeremy watched flabbergasted. Rejected. Rich readjusted himself - he had to stay chill. He moseyed to his fellow squipee, each step tingling as his legs grew numb.

 

He playfully mocked Jeremy's crash and burn with an imitation of an explosion. Tall-Ass scowled at him. He didn't like the joke. Rich skipped explaining it. "You got any Mountain Dew Red?"

 

"Okay, this whole no-squipping-while-drinking thing?" A buzz distracted him from Jeremy's speech - not a tipsy buzz, but a literal buzz, like static on a TV, and someone's cranking up the volume. They don't turn it down. It wouldn't turn off. He needed to tell him. He wanted to tell him so bad, the but the buzz was too loud, he couldn't hear his thoughts. The squip zapped him. He screamed.

 

"Rich?"

 

Another shock, longer and more powerful. He shrieked, needing to hunch down in pain, but instead rising in a forced up position. His squip blared the same word over in his head, and he screamed along.

 

"WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!"

 

Rich bolted. He didn't know where to go, he just knew he had to go. He rammed into Jake, with his wig off and Chloe at his side. Her hair was messy beneath her hastily-tied bonnet. He was walking her to the door, but at his friend's distressed expression took the time to ask what's wrong. Rich was zapped again - he just kept running.

 

The squip worked overtime to stay on, but Rich got the feeling even he was losing control. The shocks were quick, random, and frequent, the strength varying from harsh to dull to harsh again. Rich felt nauseous. The squip tried to speak.  _  "Can't - get rid - me -"  _

 

He had to get rid of this thing, but how the hell could he?

 

_ "You'll - be - noth - ing -"  _

 

God, he could vomit. He dug through the kitchen.

 

_ "You - pathe - t - ic - worrrrrrrthless - los - serrrrr-"  _

 

He turned on the stove. He didn't think long, but in the moment it made sense. If he couldn't get rid of the squip, well then maybe...well. If he survived, he knew it'd be irrational. But right then it seemed fine. The squip screeching in his head, he lifted the rag from the oven handle. He lowered it in the fire and watched the flame engulf its corner. Rich raised the fire to his shirt, but was jolted by another shock. The rag flicked from his hand. The flame caught the wooden cabinets and spread.

 

He blacked out.

 

_ Rich set a fire and he burned down the house.  _


End file.
